BEHIND THE LENS

The things you don’t see
The people who ate the cake
The flag hidden between trees
It looks like the feeling of soft shells
Crunched between fingers
Under blossoms
Of the sun
The pile of dishes used and left
Only because
The dishwasher was already full
Wet towels crumpled behind plants
On the countertop
Taking up space where I set my coffee mug to say hello or goodbye or catch
A toddler mid step
or fall, into me
Pick up my sentence from the last place I left
It was the comma or the question
Or maybe a dot dot dot
To be continued next time
Or next year

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Fight Like A Mother: A Celebration of Resistance and Resilience.
A Mother’s Day Poetry Collection